


You've Let Me Down Again

by DottyasaDalmation



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode Tag for S2 E3, Gen, Spoilers for S2 E2 and 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4586334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DottyasaDalmation/pseuds/DottyasaDalmation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Your Musketeers have let me down, again. It keeps happening, doesn’t it?’ repeated itself over and over in d’Artagnan’s mind. </p><p>The King's words bother d'Artagnan and he needs to talk to someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Let Me Down Again

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect to be posting another story so soon as I'm working on a longer one but this came to me in the middle of the night this week after watching 'An Ordinary Man' and 'The Good Traitor' again. Hope you enjoy it.

The four Musketeers returned to the garrison at the end of another trying day. Earlier they had tried to save Samara, Alaman and the cipher but they had only managed one of the three: Samara. Aramis and Porthos were slightly in front quietly chatting; d’Artagnan and Athos were side by side silently mulling things over, the King’s displeasure with them uppermost in their thoughts. 

‘Your Musketeers have let me down, again. It keeps happening, doesn’t it?’ repeated itself over and over in d’Artagnan’s mind. Each time he replayed it, he focussed on ‘again’. The last time it was mainly down to him refusing to be an executioner. His allegiance under question. Even though he had told himself over and over that it was not his fault; that the King had just had a bad time of it lately and was taking it out on him; he still blamed himself sometimes and the King’s reprimand today had brought it all flooding back. It was a nagging thought that just would not go away. No matter how much the rational part of his mind told himself that this time it wasn’t his fault. This time they were all in it together - and all had done their best. When the King had uttered the word ‘again’ d’Artagnan had swallowed hard but kept his eyes fixed straight ahead and his face impassive as the King had looked in his direction. Inwardly he was screaming about how unjust, how unfair, it was. It took most of his willpower not to argue, not to answer back. He felt under scrutiny, that it was his loyalty, his dedication to duty that was under question yet again. He needed to talk to one of the others before he overthought this any further and did something he might regret. 

Arriving at the garrison Aramis took Porthos off to his room to check over his wounds once more as he had noticed Porthos’ limp become more pronounced as the day had gone on and he knew the larger man would not openly admit how painful it actually was. d’Artagnan and Athos were left near the entrance. They gravitated to their usual table and wearily sat down, glad to have a moment’s rest. Two or three minutes passed before the younger man spoke, ‘Athos, I need to speak with you.’

‘What is it?’ he asked noting the worried look on his companion’s face. 

‘It’s just …’

‘Athos! I need to speak with you. Urgently,’ called Treville from the balcony. 

‘Sorry d’Artagnan. We’ll have to talk later. This doesn’t sound good,’ he gave d’Artagnan a sympathetic look and an encouraging pat on the back as he rose and called up to the captain, ‘Coming!’ 

d’Artagnan was left alone with his thoughts. ‘Are you taking sides with a traitor against your King?’ ‘At least I have one loyal soldier’ ‘Why do you Musketeers insist on disappointing me?’ ‘It keeps happening, doesn’t it?’ These words spoken by the King were spinning round and round in his head. 

‘Now Athos is busy, I need to talk to Porthos or Aramis about this. I have to talk to someone before it drives me mad.’ He set off in the direction of Aramis’ room but he met them coming out as he was about to knock. 

‘Hey, were you looking for us? I’m off to see Madame Beaumont and, well, three’s a crowd, but if you’re wanting company Porthos may oblige, won’t you my friend?’ Aramis greeted him smiling, slapping the larger man on the back when he mentioned his name. 

Porthos shook his head. ‘Sorry, off to a game. Need to win big tonight. Getting low on funds. But, I suppose you could join me if you wish?’ 

‘No, thanks. I’m not in the mood for gaming tonight. I might go get a drink.’

‘Okay. Enjoy your day off tomorrow. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t!’ Porthos said with a wink. 

d’Artagnan sighed in frustration. The one time he really needed to speak to someone, everyone was too busy. He couldn’t even go and see Constance as she was still occupied with the Dauphin now he was, thankfully, recovering from his illness. 

He soon found himself in a backstreet tavern, where no-one knew him and no questions would be asked, with a drink in his hand. He sat alone at a small table in the far corner. He continued to dwell on the King’s words which were still echoing round in his mind. The position he was in now, being out of favour with the King, was not a good place to be. He prided himself on being loyal to His Majesty and diligent with his duties. It hurt to have these qualities doubted. The King was not someone he could argue or reason with, not freely anyway, unless he wished to risk his commission or his neck - most likely both. He certainly didn’t want to do that so, taking the criticism, no matter how undeserved, in silence was the only option. The first time he had tried to reason with the King, an accusation had followed, ‘Are you taking sides with a traitor against your King?’ Then Rochefort had stepped in to do the task he had been asked to do. That made things ten times worse. ‘At least I have one loyal soldier,’ was the King’s response, disappointment evident on his face. That had stung. Deeply. He knew Rochefort hated the Musketeers and was scheming to turn the King against them with a whispered word in the King’s ear, a look or disparaging comments cunningly disguised to make him seem like he had confidence in the Musketeers. Despite knowing this, d’Artagnan still felt unfairly singled out and, no matter the reason, it hurt and he felt powerless to change the King’s opinion of him particularly now his loyalty had been questioned once more. Not only his loyalty but the loyalty of a company of soldiers he had held in high regard since boyhood. He knew he was taking this more personally that he should but he couldn’t help himself: he always agonised over anything less than perfection. 

The Gascon was not by nature a big drinker nor did he often seek solace in alcohol like Athos but he did this day. Each drink he took further diluted the painful thoughts until they were dispersed in a haze of alcohol. He drank until he passed out, knocking his head on the table in the process. At some small hour of the morning he was roughly chucked out onto the street but he could only sink down against a wall and continue his drunken slumber. 

Awakening with his head pounding, the negative thoughts came flooding back. He slowly got up and staggered back to his former seat calling for another drink, desperate to banish the thoughts once more. He had sufficient funds for enough wine to cause him to pass out for a second time. Again, at some unknown hour he was roughly manhandled out onto the streets where he resumed his intoxicated stupor. 

That morning, back at the garrison, the inseparables had reported for duty noting their missing companion. ‘Do you think he’s okay?’ asked Aramis. ‘When did you last see him?’  
None of them had seen him since he had left two days ago.

‘He wanted to speak to me about something that was troubling him but Treville called me away,’ Athos explained beginning to worry.

‘That’s why he must’ve come to find us then. I had a prior appointment,’ Aramis said.

‘An’ I asked ‘im if ‘e wanted t’ join me but ‘e said ‘e wasn’t in the mood. Said ‘e might get a drink,’ Porthos added.

‘Damn, why didn’t I seek him out? I knew he had a problem. If he’s done something stupid, I’ll never forgive myself,’ Athos said in frustration.

‘Don’t blame yourself, Athos. Your duty came first. He knew that, indeed we all know that. If you want to blame anyone, blame me. At least Porthos extended an invitation to join him. I had no thoughts for anyone but myself that night. I could’ve spared a few minutes to talk to him,’ Aramis tried to comfort his brother. 

‘Maybe ‘e’s just late. ‘ad a bit too much fun with Constance or something. It’s too early to worry,’ Porthos suggested desperately trying to be positive and ease his friends anxieties, and his own. 

‘It’s not like him to be late,’ Athos shook his head frowning. ‘Porthos. Aramis. Cover for us. I’m going to search for him,’ Athos ordered. ‘Don’t let the captain know. I don’t want to worry him if he has been injured and, if he has got himself into trouble or done something stupid, it gives me a chance to clean up any mess.’

A few coins put to good use to buy information and a methodical search soon brought Athos to the street outside the tavern where his brother was lying in the gutter. Athos rushed up to him fearing the worst but relaxed when he saw him breathe, and a quick check revealed no injuries aside from the bruise on his head caused when it had hit the table. At least he was alive and unharmed. A few questions to the barkeep revealed that he had been there since Athos had last seen him. It pained him to see his friend like that. ‘This is so out of character,’ he thought as he knelt by his unconscious brother. ‘It’s all my fault. I should’ve asked him to wait and talked to him. How many times has he watched me attempt to solve my problems with drink? If it hadn’t been for my bad influence, would he have sought company in alcohol? I’ve failed him. Miserably.’ 

Athos’ attempts to wake d’Artagnan only resulted in incoherent mutterings and uncoordinated attempts to push his hands away so he put the semi-unconscious Gascon over his shoulder and carried him back to his lodgings in town rather than the garrison. The fewer who knew about this, the better. As he was approaching his door, d’Artagnan became aware of his surroundings and began protesting at being carried. 

‘What’s happening? Who’re you? Put me down!’ he slurred, accompanying his words with ineffective blows to Athos’ back. 

‘Shh, d’Artagnan, calm down. It’s me, Athos. I’m taking you home. Just relax,’ he soothed.

‘No! I need a drink! Put me down!’ d’Artagnan ordered, getting angrier now he had more wits about him. He started flailing about causing the older man to tighten his grip as he stepped across the threshold. Closing the door behind him, Athos released his brother who first collapsed on the ground in a heap then unsteadily got to his feet, one hand on the wall to support his swaying body, head hanging low. ‘I need a drink,’ he repeated. 

‘No, you don’t my friend,’ his mentor firmly stated. ‘Trust me. I have enough experience to know what you do and do not need - and a drink isn’t on the cards for you right now.’

‘You can’t stop me.’ 

‘I need to. You’re supposed to be on duty. Do you really want to risk losing your commission over this?’

‘What does it matter? The King thinks little enough of me anyway.’ Athos could clearly hear the anguish and despair in his voice which only increased his guilt. He now knew what was bothering his friend and why he wanted to talk the other day. He should have guessed really. He knew d’Artagnan wasn’t satisfied with anything less than perfection and knew how passionately loyal he was. Anything that called these qualities into question distressed him and it wasn’t just anyone doubting him, it was the King himself: the person he had publicly sworn loyalty to.

‘Oh, d’Artagnan, I’m sorry. I’m to blame for letting you come to this. Come and sit down, we need to talk,’ he said ruefully as the younger man allowed him to lead him to a chair, the fight in him now gone. 

d’Artagnan sat down ungracefully and leant forwards putting his head in his hands. ‘Ohh my head, I think I’m going to throw up,’ he moaned. 

‘Well do it in here and not all over my floor please,’ Athos snapped, quickly passing him a bucket. 

The Gascon’s nausea passed and he raised his head and looked at Athos, ‘Are you angry with me? I’d understand if you were.’ 

Athos briefly closed his eyes and shook his head, ‘No,’ he replied gently, sitting down beside him. ‘I’m angry at myself, not you. You tried to tell me something was wrong. I should’ve known what you wanted to talk about.’

‘It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have looked for solace in the tavern. I was taught better than that.’

‘Be that as it may, I still failed you as a brother and as a mentor. As a brother I should have come looking for you sooner. As a mentor, I’ve been a bad influence. You have seen me look for answers in a bottle, what kind of message was that sending you?’ 

‘Stop it Athos!’ d’Artagnan scolded looking him in the eye. ‘You haven’t failed me, quite the opposite. I’ve seen you have the courage to stop, to turn from drink. You’ve always told me it wasn’t the solution. That’s why I say I was taught better than that. Because of you. You have told me many times to talk to someone if I have a problem.’ His gaze softened and his voice dropped, ‘My problems always become bearable when I talk with you and I believe you now feel the same way.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ Athos said slowly. ‘But, still, I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most.’ 

‘You have no reason to feel guilty. Duty comes first, I know that. I could’ve waited until you’d finished speaking with the captain. It was entirely my fault I chose to go to the tavern.’

‘Yes, I suppose you’re right once again. But I apologise, I didn’t bring you back here to talk about how I’m feeling. I know the King’s thoughtless words upset you.’

‘Just talking just now has helped me see things more clearly. Part of me knows I did nothing wrong, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Loyalty, honour, duty. These are important to me and when I’m doubted I can’t help but take it personally. It’s not just me. Treville and the whole regiment have been unfairly criticised and I didn’t help matters by refusing to execute Bruno no matter how justified my reasons were.’

‘What’s done is done. Berating yourself isn’t going to change anything. You know we believe it’s Rochefort that’s at the bottom of all this. I don’t trust him at all. If I’m right, things will get worse before they get better. Don’t let Rochefort win. We need to stick together to defeat him.’ 

‘I agree. I need to focus on defeating him rather than on the past. I’m determined not to let the Musketeers down again, even unintentionally. But if Rochefort has his way, I realise that may happen and I’ll not dwell on it. Instead all my energy will go into bringing him down.’ He paused for a second. ‘You mentioned my commission, am I in trouble? Does Treville know I didn’t turn up this morning?’

‘No, I asked the others to cover for us. Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble. How’s your head?’

‘Sore but bearable. I’ll be fine.’

‘Good, clean yourself up. We’d best get back before we’re missed. Can you walk without staggering?’

d’Artagnan smiled. ‘Yes, I’ll manage, and Athos? Thank you. If I ever suggest drinking as much as I did in the last two days, just shoot me. It’ll save me a lot of needless pain.’


End file.
